


the ink on our skin

by queenofteacups



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Character Study, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 13:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13032372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofteacups/pseuds/queenofteacups
Summary: “Are you okay?” Lydia asks. He’s too quiet, and it's unnerving to her because she's rarely seen him this quiet.“Hm? Oh, yeah...yeah, I'm good. Just thinking.”“About?”“Us,” he admits





	the ink on our skin

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for stileslydiah as part of the Stydia Secret Santa exchange. I hope you like it, dear!
> 
> Major kudos to stilesssolo for betaing this for me!

Soulmate.

 

It's first definition is “a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.”

 

It's second definition is the person who marks your skin with their own handwriting, leaving behind a trace of your future with them, an exchange of words from a discussion that hasn't happened yet.

 

Lydia Martin’s tattoo is on her wrist in a small, hasty scrawl. She covers it up with makeup and bracelets everyday. Ever since she was a child, she’s despised the idea of a soulmate. To start with, it was out of sheer stubbornness. If she really had a soulmate,  _ she _ would choose them, not some silly tattoo.

 

The older she gets, the more stubbornness fades into inexplicable anger. Fate doesn't control her romantic life; so she dates, choosing not from the heart, but from the mind. Some help further her own reputation, others are just a fun distraction. None of them stick, and some leave scars so deep Lydia can barely notice them.

 

But they're there. As permanent and life altering as the stupid tattoo that knows who her soulmate is long before she does.

 

In retrospect, Lydia thinks she was just too stubborn to notice how she and he always seemed to be thrown together, how eventually being by each other's side was as easy as breathing, how they seemed to always be pulled into each other's gravity.

  
  


It doesn't matter what happens, Chimeras or Beserkers or Nogitsunes, somehow they still always find each other, they bring each other home…

 

He’s the one constant in her life. He doesn't leave her, he doesn't treat her as less than, he doesn't give up on her. He _believes_ in her.

 

And then she loses him. She can't even  _ remember _ him: his face, his laugh, his touch. But she remembers the depth of her feelings for him, remembers the empty space in the desk next to her, in all the photos he  _ should _ be in.

 

She remembers his name, eventually.  _ Stiles. _

 

And when she finally,  _ finally _ gets him back, it all hits her. And when she tells him, “I didn't say it back,” the tattoo  _ burns _ , and when he responds she knows why.

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

And as they fall into each other's gravity once more, words gone as their lips meet, all she can think is that “ _ you don’t have to”  _ sounds so much better aloud than being read off her wrist.

 

Lydia stays with him that night. The ride to Stiles’ place is a quiet one, and Lydia can't deny she’s missed sitting in the Jeep talking to Stiles and Scott. Things are just so  _ right _ when it's the three of them.

 

Dinner at the Stilinski house is filled with chatter between bites of a take out pizza, and the few times it gets quiet, it's of moments of quiet disbelief that they’d been  _ so _ close to losing him. Hugs usually follow those silences, and none seem to mind much.

 

Eventually, Scott leaves to head home, and the hug he gives Stiles is tighter than any of the other embraces Lydia has seen the two share.

 

Stiles spends more time with his father after that, but things are quieter now, like they’re all drinking in the fact that he’s back, he’s really back. 

 

Lydia watches them with a soft smile, her hand propping up her head. At some point, she drifts off into a dreamless sleep, only to be reawakened some time later by Stiles gently shaking her.

 

“Lyds?”

 

Her vision is blurry, but as soon as it clears, her breath catches in her throat because, god, he’s so beautiful in the pale moonlight filtering in through the sheer curtains, casting a glow on his already pale skin. There's a warm glow in his amber eyes, and she wants to drown herself in that gaze.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You need to get to bed. Like...an actual bed. Trust me, that couch is murder on the neck. Just ask my Dad.”

 

Lydia sits up, more alert than before. “I'm not leaving you,” she tells him with a fiery determination she knows he won't fight against. “Not tonight, not ever again.”

 

Stiles freezes, and she swears she sees him forget to breath for a second. Then he nods. “Okay, okay. You can...you can sleep in my room, alright? If you want.”

 

Lydia smiles. “That's all I want.”

 

His bed is as soft as she remembers it, but she’s more content to just be laying in his arms. His hand rubs up and down her arm distractedly as he stares up at the ceiling.

 

“Are you okay?” Lydia asks. He’s  _ too  _ quiet, and it's unnerving to her because she's rarely seen him this quiet.

 

“Hm? Oh, yeah...yeah, I'm good. Just thinking.”

 

“About?”

 

“Us,” he admits. “What you said before we...before we kissed-that... _ well _ …” out of words, he holds out his wrist to her. There, written in her own neat handwriting, are the words  _ I didn't say it back. _

 

Lydia traces her finger over the tattoo and a smile spreads across her face. “It's true, then,” she whispers. She would be lying, of course, if she said she wasn't worried that he was her soulmate, but she wasn't his.

 

But of course they are. It was always Stiles, and it was always Lydia.

 

Silently, she shows him hers. He freezes as he reads the words, then he slowly trails his forefinger along the handwriting ( _ his _ handwriting), like she had moments before.

 

When his whiskey colored eyes finally meet hers again, soft reverence blazing in them, his lips part slightly in shock. The expression is so similar to the one he gave her right after their first kiss that Lydia has to restrain herself from kissing him again.

 

Finally, a lopsided smile spreads across his face and he chuckles. “I told you we’d be a perfect combination.”

 

Lydia only rolls her eyes lovingly as he continues on about all the times he just  _ knew _ they were perfect together, until she finally shuts him up with a kiss.

 

For years, she’d been afraid of having a soulmate. She understands that now. She was terrified of not being loved in return, of being rejected. 

 

Fear is not a soulmate.

 

A soulmate is the person who believes in you, encourages you, loves you at your worst and at your best. Who makes you laugh between kisses.

 

Lydia understands that now.

  
  



End file.
